


A Giraffe With Three Legs Ice-Skating

by Avocado



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Internship, Love, Mention of sex, Pining, Swearing, light Matt/reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avocado/pseuds/Avocado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interning at Nelson and Murdock was not going as well as you'd hoped.<br/>Nelson and Murdock was SMALL.<br/>Like, three people working there small.<br/>Which meant you kinda had to interact with everyone, every day.<br/>Which was so not good when you had a crush on one of the only three people in the place.<br/>(Rated M for swearing)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Giraffe With Three Legs Ice-Skating

**Author's Note:**

> So I love Foggy so much. And there's a lack of Foggy/Reader so I wanted to change that. Yeah, I'm not American so I had to take a few liberties, your internship is 10 weeks long, and I figure you're maybe 22 in this fic? I don't know. It's about the fluff, not the plot.  
> 

Man, it had been a long time since you had a crush this big.

‘Crush’. Ugh. You hated that word. Made you sound like you were a teenager again, staring doe-eyed at some quarterback across the playing field. The only other word you could think to use would be ‘smitten’ and that made you sound like you were in some period drama and that was only marginally better than the quarterback thing.

Ah, you knew what you were. Fucked. You were absolutely fucked.

You were fucked because you had a crush on your kind-of boss. Could you call him that? It seemed a stretch, you were in your fourth year at college, and you were interning. However a bad case of the flu meant you had sent out your applications late so all the good spots in the big firms had been snapped up by your peers. Nelson and Murdock were the only ones who would take you on. And it wasn’t that you were ungrateful, you needed this to graduate, just – they were small. _Really_ small.

Like, three people working there small.

Which meant you kinda had to interact with everyone, every day.

Which was so not good when you had a crush on one of the _only_ three people in the place.

It was corny but basically it had started the moment you first saw him. You were tenser than you had ever been in your life as you walked up to the office door on your first day. You _needed_ this to go well otherwise the rest of your career as a lawyer was basically screwed. You took in a couple of deep breaths and smoothed down the skirt of your suit, trying to ignore the fact that this place had chipped plaster and damp in the corners when your coursemates were in offices that overlooked Hell’s Kitchen from ten storeys up.

When you had managed to knock on the door you were greeted by Karen, and god you almost felt like it was her smiles and little hand squeezes of reassurance that had got you through that first day’s nerves. Before you knew what was happening your jacket was taken and you were shown where you were going to work, a tiny corner space in the main office room.

The latter half of the firm’s namesake came out of his office to greet you. You tried to hide your surprise at the fact he was blind. But hey, you thought, as you shook Matt Murdock’s outstretched hand, if he could co-run his own law firm then he clearly didn’t let it bother him.

It was _then_ that the door had opened behind you and the last member of the trio that you’d be working with for the next ten weeks made his way into the office, mid-sentence, mid-mouthful of pastry, and mid-being really fucking cute.

“… have _got_ to get a door that doesn’t sound like something out of a horror movie. I’m gonna level with you, I don’t like coming into work and thinking I’m gonna be murd…” he trailed off when he saw you, pastry crumbs showering down onto his suit. It was adorable. He was adorable. Oh god. You cast your eyes down and supressed the blush you knew was coming.

“…ock. Murdock, you told me the intern wasn’t going to arriving until this afternoon,” said the man you could only assume to be Nelson.

“No, he said the _clients_ weren’t arriving ‘til this afternoon, the intern was arriving this morning,” trilled Karen from across the room, clearly enjoying this. You tried to hide a little smile as you looked back up.

God he was… cute. Just, really handsome and, yeah. There was something about him you just couldn’t put your finger on. The way that his sandy blonde hair kept escaping being tucked behind his ear, or the way that his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked for somewhere he could put down his things. Not to get you wrong. Karen and Matt were _hot._ But this guy was… more _you_ , you thought.

“Oh god. Is it too late for me to try walking into the office again?”he sighed, with a pained expression, dusting himself off. You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “Maybe a little,” you replied, “but it’s okay.”

“I was hoping for the ‘grand lawyer with his own firm’ image, not the ‘covered with half a croissant’ one,” but he smiled and it made your heart melt a bit, and when you shook his hand it was warm and comforting. “Foggy Nelson.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, “and don’t feel bad, I managed to walk halfway down the street this morning before I realised I was wearing two different shoes. Maybe it’s just one of those mornings.”

Oh god. Why were you talking? You needed to shut up. You gave possibly the most awkward laugh in the history of the world. Then you realised you were still shaking hands _._

“He’s not let go, has he?” came Matt’s voice, a blissful relief from what had to be the most cringe-worthy introduction ever made. The two of you let go of each other’s hands immediately as Karen laughed and squeezed your shoulder.

“Ignore Matt, he’s an ass,” she said, with a smile. “Do you want some coffee?”

You spent the rest of the day doing whatever menial tasks you were assigned and resolutely not making eye contact with Foggy Nelson.

**

It was a good week before you were comfortable enough to stop calling Matt and Foggy “Mr Murdock” and “Mr Nelson.” After at least the fourth time that day when Foggy said “please, just ‘Foggy’ is fine” Matt piped up, “Every time you call him Mr Nelson his ego inflates about three sizes. Please stop. It’s suffocating me.”

It’s just Foggy from then on.

The work’s pretty repetitive, but interesting. It’s good to read through all of the case files, learning through things that have actually been done. You’ll stumble upon files that you remember reading about in the paper and will find yourself absorbed in them. Once or twice Karen catches you going through them when really you should be working. She doesn’t say anything though. You might actually love this woman.

The first time you really get to talk to Foggy alone is when you’ve just finished reading through the Fisk case, actually. You knock on his office door with an elbow, hands full of paperwork, and struggle into the room when he calls for you to come in.

“I’ve got the paperwork Mr N- uh, Foggy,” you call from behind the mountain of A4 that seems to be trying to crush you.

Foggy’s sitting at his desk, working on his laptop, and doesn’t look up at you for a second – when he does though he rushes over and takes the pile from you. Your hands touch.

“You shouldn’t carry all this by yourself! You’ll break your back,” he says, setting down the pile on his desk with a heavy thump.

“So it’s fine for you to break yours?” you ask, a little smile appearing on your lips. Foggy laughs and runs a hand through his hair. God he is adorable.

“I’m expendable. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you yet, young padawan,” he replies and you chuckle, unable to help yourself. Is it just you or does he perk up when he makes you laugh?

“You’re not _that_ much older than me. I won’t be writing a eulogy just yet,” you reply. You look at each other for a moment, and is there something there? You’re about to make your excuses to get back to work when he speaks first.

“Hey, stay for a minute. I feel like I should get to know you if you’re gonna be working here for the best part of three months,” Foggy says, leaning against his desk. It takes you by surprise and you find yourself staying in the room.

“What do you want to know?” you ask. Foggy shrugs and reaches for his coffee.

“I don’t know. Why do you want to be a lawyer?”

It’s a reasonable question. You nod and mull it over.

“Well, partly because I like helping people, I guess. But partly because of contrariness. How weird would it sound if I said my parents wanted me to be a dancer?”

Foggy quirks an eyebrow and with it, your heart. “It would sound extremely weird, but I’ll hear you out, Miss Intern.”

“My family are all performers, you know? I’ve been forced into more dancing and acting classes than I can keep count of. My mom did ballet for all her life before she had me, and her mom was a professional for some company… one of the big ones, I can’t remember. I think they wanted to keep it up. But watching me dance is like watching a giraffe with three legs ice-skating,” you love the sound of Foggy laughing, “so I figured I’d do something that was more, I don’t know. More _me._ The kind of performing my family does seems so self-centred. They do it for them, not for anyone else, you know? And I kinda like helping people, so, here I am. Monologue over.”

Foggy looks impressed.

“That’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you’ve been here, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise. It’s interesting. You’re interesting.” There’s a pause. “My mom wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Fuck off,” you say in surprise, before you can stop yourself. Foggy laughs at how horrified you look at yourself. You can’t help but do the same.

**

You really enjoy it at Nelson and Murdock. It’s kind of like a family, as cringe-worthy as that sounds. And you’re treated like an equal. The work you’re given is demanding, you don’t feel patronised like you might at a bigger firm. And you get on with everyone there really well. Matt is dry but _cuttingly_ clever, one of the best lawyers you’ve ever meet. Karen is just the right mix of fun-loving and no-nonsense.

And Foggy, well. Foggy is Foggy and he’s perfect. It isn’t your imagination, he does watch you out the corner of his eye to make sure you’re laughing at his jokes. And whenever he’s going out to get coffee you’re always the first one he offers to buy for, until eventually he stops asking, and then almost every day there’s your favourite double-shot mocha with cream sitting on your tiny desk.

“I feel like I should be the one doing this,” you say, taking a swig of that sweet chocolatey goodness.

“No,” replied Foggy, with mock-seriousness, “you are our intern. We must protect you from the outside world. Who knows what kind of cads may sweep up an innocent young lawyer-to-be.”

“You made it sound like someone’s going to tie me to some train tracks.”

“This is Hell’s Kitchen, nothing is impossible.”

“Why get your hands off me you _brute_ ,” you cry, in your best Southern Belle voice. You and Foggy crack up.

You don’t remember exactly _when_ you started going for drinks with the three of them. One night you were just invited and then you were never _un_ invited. Firstly you would only have one or two drinks, not quite sure how to act around all three of your _kind of_ bosses, but then it appeared that when they drank, they drank _hard_. And who were you to act out of turn? So a couple of beers rapidly evolved into _shots, shots, SHOTS._

No matter how absolutely fuck-faced you get, though, Foggy always walks you home. Usually you slur your goodbyes and he lumbers off down the street with the next time you see him being at work the next day, both of you trying to pretend you don’t have hangovers.

But then one night, well, one nearly-three-in-the-morning, you stumble to your door and you’re so tired and so drunk, and so you turn to Foggy and manage “you wanna stay?”

His eyes go wide and you quickly add “Nothin’ weird! ‘s late. Sleep on sofa, if y’ wan’.”

Foggy seems to sum up the pros and cons of this, then nods. The two of you manage to make it to your apartment where he consequently passes out on your couch and you manage to make it the few more feet to your room where _you_ then pass out on your bed.

The next morning you swear you’ll never drink again. You know you’re lying though. You hear your name being whispered through your door, and Foggy comes in, clutching two glasses of water.

“Figured you’d need this,” he says through gritted teeth and you nod. You down half the glass of water. Christ you can only imagine how bad you look. With a sigh you look to Foggy.

“Can we… just not go in? And sleep?” you ask. You wonder if you’re speaking out of turn but Foggy suddenly takes your hand. God you’re too hungover for this.

“(Y/N),” he whispers, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

At some point you both fall asleep on your bed. Not, like, touching or anything. But you’ve definitely reached a place where it’s not weird for the two of you to be in that situation. It’s nice.

Some time that afternoon you manage to pull yourself out of the well of alcohol induced self-pity to fry some bacon. The smell of it stirs Foggy and brings him back into your living room, where he sits in an armchair.

“God this has been so unprofessional of me,” Foggy says, and there’s a weight in his voice that worries you. You turn to him as you assemble bacon sandwiches.

“We didn’t do anything unprofessional, did we? We had some drinks and fell asleep. I don’t think that’s arrest worthy.”

Foggy eats the offered sandwich with relish.

“I don’t know. It’s just, (Y/N), you’re…”

And for a moment it seems like something might cross his lips that could be affection. The way he’s looking at you, heavy-lidded and still feeling the effects of alcohol, it seems like now would be the perfect chance to end that sentence with “you’re special to me.”

But he chickens out.

“You’re the intern.”

You nod. Yeah, you are.

You turn on the TV and watch it in silence before you say you’re going to take a shower. When you get back, Foggy’s gone.

**

Annoyingly you have the whole weekend to wait before you see him again. It’s not like you don’t have his number, but you don’t want to annoy the guy. Well you do want to, you want to ask him if there’s anything between you two, if there ever _could_ be.

That’s before you meet Marci Stahl.

She comes in to discuss business the next week. You and Foggy have been amicable, but not friendly like you were before he slept over at yours. You’re just summoning the courage to talk to him again when she breezes into the office as if it’s her second home, beautiful, bleach-blonde, curves in all the right places. She barely gives you a second glance before she walks straight up to Foggy and his face lights up like… well, like it did whenever he made you laugh.

You pretend you’re busy with some paperwork while the noise of them talking and laughing permeates through the walls of his office. You don’t even know the woman and you have no right to be acting like this, being possessive of a man who was never yours against a woman you’ve never met, but she’s gorgeous and confident and well.

Everything you aren’t, really.

If Foggy notices how quiet you are he doesn’t say anything.

That night you and Karen are the last ones to leave the office.

“Karen,” you ask, haltingly. She looks at you with those knowing eyes of her and you think she knows what you’re going to ask before you ask it. You finish the question anyway. “Who was that woman who came to see Foggy earlier?”

“Marci Stahl? She works for another firm. Her and Foggy have kind of been… on again, off again,” she replies, gently. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Are they… on again, at the moment?” you manage.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You shove the rest of your stuff in your bag as if you can pack your emotions in with them. Karen puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you want to get a drink?”

“God. Yes.”

**

You start hanging out with Karen more, and not just at work. In your free time too. She’s a brilliant person, she’s funny and sassy and just being around her makes you happy. The fact that she’s quickly becoming your best friend makes it easier to walk into work every day, but not quite easy enough to ignore the sharp feeling you get in your stomach whenever you catch Foggy’s eye. He tries smiling at you from across the office, and the coffees appear more regularly on your desk. But caffeine filled chocolate won’t erase the fact that he’s basically blanked you these last few days.

You start spending more time with Matt, though, too. He’s a really lovely guy. Clumsy, though, judging by the amount of cuts and bruises he comes in with over the weeks. But it can’t be easy being blind. Nevertheless he’s always asking if you’re okay, making sure your work is going well, and then just chatting about random things. It feels like many days, at some point, you, Karen, and Matt will end up in the main office, just joking around. It _is_ nice.

You still miss being around Foggy, though.

It’s late in your internship when you all go out for a drink again. It’s been a long day, and a longer case, and the four of you agree that you need a break from it all. And for a while it seems like everything is back to how it was, there’s no awkwardness between any of you, just laughs and beers, and then laughs and shots, and then laughs and whatever you can get your hands on.

It’s past midnight when you realise you should really get this college intern update done for tomorrow. You groan, not wanting to leave.

“I’ll walk you home,” pipes up Matt. Foggy stares at him, and so do you,

“No, Matt, buddy, it’s-” he begins, but Matt holds up a hand to silence him.

“I insist. (Y/N)?” Matt asks. You chew your lip, feeling bad about making the _blind_ guy walk you back. Matt seems to know what you’re about to say and says, with a laugh, “It’s okay, I know this city well. I’ll be okay walking back on my own.”

“Yeah, okay then. Thanks,” you say, taking Matt’s arm and leaving the bar.

It’s a pleasant walk home and Matt’s good company. You talk about this and that, and eventually you get onto the subject of your internship. You ask why there were so few applicants, considering that Nelson and Murdock were the ones who busted Fisk.

“I think people are worried that Fisk still has men about, so anyone who associates with us worries that they could maybe be in danger,” Matt replies, honestly. “Plus, you know, we’re still a tiny firm. Not much potential.”

You nod, for all the use it will do, as you reach the door to your building.

“I’ve enjoyed it though, for what it’s worth,” you say.

“It’s worth a lot,” Matt replies. You say goodnight and you turn to open the door.

“He’ll come round, you know,” you hear Matt say, and you look around to ask him what he means, but he’s already halfway down the street.

Man he can move fast for a blind guy. You shake your head and go into your flat.

**

Matt’s very… touchy the next few days. It’s kind of weird. Every time you go to say something about it he gives _a look_ , and though it’s never directly at you you know it’s meant for you; a look to say _trust me here._

And you do trust Matt. So you say nothing.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. Foggy goes back to how he was in those first few weeks, the half-flirting, the joking, the attentiveness. But Matt doesn’t let up. You hate to admit it but you’re kind of enjoying having these two attractive guys compete for you.

“Hey, (Y/N), can you help me find the Evans file?” Matt calls from where he’s standing by the filing cabinet. Karen’s out for lunch and Foggy’s in his office, the door open. The whole thing is organised in braille but you say nothing, instead getting up and sifting through the paper. Smooth as fuck, Matt lets his fingers touch yours and then brushes his way up your arm to stroke your cheek. You take the sneakiest glance you can at Foggy, and he looks livid.

“Here you go,” you say, passing him the file, letting your hands linger for a moment too long to be innocent.

“Matt, can I talk to you?” comes Foggy’s strained voice from his office. Matt shoots you a smile which Foggy can’t see.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies and goes into Foggy’s office… but he doesn’t completely shut the door.

You try and listen as well as you can but it’s hard. You catch a few words here and there, mostly from Matt. Those which stick in your mind are: “just flirting”, “you’re the one who says she’s the intern”, and “it’s her last week, you’ll have to tell her before she slips away.”

From Foggy you hear: “… _know_ I like her…”, “embarrassed to…”, and “if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Matt walks out the office after a single “it’s your choice.” As he goes back to his office he shoots you a look which say _told ya so._

You can’t keep the smile off your face.

**

It’s your last day, and you’re sad. You’ve grown to love this place. Love the people here, for many different reasons. But you won’t let it get you down, you don’t want to dampen the mood.

You’re the first one in the office that morning – you’ve got cake with you and you wanted to set it up before the others got in, as a nice going away present from you to them. It’s quiet, so you turn on the radio, just as background noise.

You recognise the beats of the song you’ve just happen to catch the beginning of. It’s fucking _Uptown Funk_ which seems to just never stop playing. It’s damn catchy though. And, well, you’re alone. It’s been a long time since you did any kind of dancing. But you let it happen, turning the music up and doing the embarrassing moves you usually save for when you’re really drunk. Naturally you don’t even hear Foggy coming in, or notice him watching you.

“I wouldn’t say like a three-legged giraffe trying to ice skate,” he remarks and you jump a mile. He laughs at your reaction.

“More like a two-legged one then?” you say. Foggy smiles, but there’s something sad in it.

“No,” he replies, at length. “Not like a giraffe at all. More like someone who’s trying to pretend that they’re happy even though they aren’t.”

You nod. He’s got you there. Suddenly there’s something in your throat and you violently wish it wasn’t tears.

“I don’t want to leave. Is that stupid?”

“Nah. It would mean you wouldn’t get to see this celestial body every day, and that’s enough to ruin anyone’s life.”

You laugh, despite yourself. And then suddenly you and Foggy are very close. How did you get so close? You look up into his face, and he’s smiling, a little smile, but it’s full of warmth, and, and… something else.

Affection?

“It’s not that I just don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave… you,” you say. God you are so bad with feelings. It’s horrible. But then Foggy’s brushing the hair out of your face and your heart goes into overdrive.

“I thought you liked Matt,” he says in a quiet voice, as if he’s afraid that he’s right.

“I thought you liked Marci,” is your reply. He laughs, a humourless thing.

“I don’t think anyone can _like_ Marci,” he replies, dryly.

“And I don’t think I can keep hiding the fact that I’ve liked you since the first day I got here.” Wow, that was brave. Well done you. Foggy’s eyebrows raise. “Even though I know I’m the intern, and I, I didn’t want to make it weird for you or anything, because…”

Suddenly his hand is on your mouth and you shut up.

“ _Were_ the intern,” he replies, and then suddenly he’s kissing you. You’ve waited ten weeks for this and all the times you’ve imagined it _Uptown Funk_ hasn’t been playing in the background. But hey, you’ll go with it.

You go up on your tiptoes so you can go deeper into the kiss, and your hands are on his shoulders, and then one’s in his hair and his arms are around you as if the devil will take you if he lets you go. You feel his tongue touch your bottom lip and you open your mouth and really this isn’t the best way to kiss in an office but you don’t really give a flying fuck because you’re kissing Foggy, you’re kissing Foggy _fucking_ Nelson, _FUCKING FINALLY._

“They’re kissing,” Karen’s voice cuts through the moment and you and Foggy spring apart to see the woman and Matt both in the doorway with shit-eating grins on their faces.

“I know, I could hear,” Matt replies. Foggy rolls his eyes but you notice he’s holding your hand.

“I hate you, Murdock.”

**

You’re almost graduated, and it’s scary. You’ve been looking for places where you can work. Foggy’s been helping you too. He’s been really supportive these last few months, and you love him for it. You may well have had a nervous breakdown if it hadn’t been for his support, the coffees and the movie nights. And the sex helped too. It was never too serious – Foggy was _really_ fucking good at sex, but he also made you laugh through it which was amazing, and god, he was just the best.

He meets you after your class and you get a coffee. Over your mocha he mentions, just casually, ever so casually, that Nelson and Murdock are looking to fill a vacancy soon, seeing as they’ve got the money to upsize their office. You nearly choke on your drink and clasp your hands over your mouth.

“Franklin Nelson, I fucking love you. I, I, I just love you,” you say, and kiss him.

“I love you too,” he says, and he smiles, and all you can think is thank _god_ you dance like a giraffe with three legs ice skating, otherwise you never would have gone into law.


End file.
